Erotic tales, filthy photographs and sex blogging from a dirty mind

Story: Dominating My Wife

I realised that I have very few male domination tales on my site, so finished this little fantasy that I started writing in May to address this! 😉

She’s waiting, patiently; I texted her in advance of my arrival with instructions and she always follows them to the letter. The penalty for disobedience is severe: neither of us would want it any other way.

The white leather basque complements her tanned skin, exhibiting her succulent breasts for my inspection and attention. I adore the sensuality of the leather: it hugs her skin tightly, moulding to her feminine curves. The smell of her garments are deeply erotic, the natural, leathery aroma is piquant and titillates my senses with the unmistakable scent of our kinky games.

Her legs, coated in sheer white stockings, look incredible. I have unfettered access to her sex this evening, but the flimsiest of material is easily ripped from her gorgeous body at the merest of whims anyway. I love ruining her underwear, senselessly tearing the dainty garments before plowing into her unguarded pussy. There’s a primal energy in the destruction of the fabric: a deep-seated arousal that forces me to seize my satisfaction before she can even undress.

Then there are the shoes: glossy white leather with four inch heels that tighten her elegant calf. Beautiful, provocative, erotic. They add a few inches to her height so she can look me in the eye as I ogle the arousing sight. The white of her outfit makes her virginal and innocent; the leather makes her debauched and sexy. It’s a beautiful combination.

Lastly, there is the collar with her name stitched upon it. Inches of fantastic leather moulded into a sensual accessory for my submissive. She’s mine: the acceptance of my collar is the acceptance of my domination. Her eyes swam with excitement the day I first fastened it: savouring the symbol of her submission as she stared lovingly into my eyes. A new connection between us, a new bind holding us tightly. A powerful, never-ending commitment to each other.

The toys I’ve demanded lie impatiently on a metal tray, just as I’ve ordered. I won’t use them all: the thickest, longest dildo is to tease her mind; to get her imagination whirring and her juices flowing.

She looks longingly when she sees me enter the room: I’m on time. I say nothing as I glance her up and down, unfastening my coat and removing my suit jacket as I take in every aspect of her glorious appearance. The nipple chains jangle in my hands as I pick them from the tray and she barely moves as I fasten them on her sensitive tits, squeezing tightly around her skin to force the first whimper from her lips.

A tug on the chain pulls her forward: the clamps bite painfully. I can feel the torment through her eyes, hear her devotion in her mewls; the endorphins racing as my fingers twirl the chain in front of her, pulling it taut.

She silently begs for mercy and for more at the same time. I know what she needs, I know what she wants: she’s desperate to be taken further and further into her submission. A small walk around our lounge leads to my favourite chair, and she knows what’s coming next.

The dainty wooden paddle: ornately carved with sado-masochistic nymphs etched onto the handle. The firm smack echoes in our room: she writhes, squirming. The arch of her back over the arm of the padded furniture twists as the smacks pelt on her reddening behind.

I count to thirty-three, saving the final slap of the wooden paddle for my hardest hit. Her yells echo: a twisted mixture of desperate compliance and painful yelps. The fiery cries excites me; she groans as I unzip my trousers to slip my stiff cock into her.

A beautiful, slick fire burns inside of the soubrette: the warming pelts on her flesh from my paddle, the agonising tyranny of the nipple clamps, the tightness of her corset squeezing her body and the smooth thrusts of my manhood stimulate her wanton lust. Her groans erupt into cries: her senses dancing to every touch until she pants with a mewed explosion and her body tips her into a climax.

Her enjoyment triggers mine: the quivering squeeze of her sex around my cock causes my floodgates to open, and I fill her insides with the profits of our fervour.

Her eyes twinkle as she looks over her shoulder, smiling warmly as I withdraw from her.

“Happy birthday,” I say, as I roughly rub her abused bottom, and reach underneath her body to tug at her dangling chain. She squeals as my fingers unexpectedly lead her from the chair, but I have a whole evening of enjoyment planned and that was just the starter.